There
by off-the-deep-end
Summary: Alice's past and present are affecting her future in serious ways, but she is afraid to change. Can Jasper help her fight that fear? What about the obstacles in Alice's path? M for mature language and themes. On temporary hiatus
1. Chapter 1 Here

_**A/N: Thank you so much to my new (and very thorough) beta, Leon. Amazing. Thank you!**_

_**On another note, I refuse to beg for reviews…But I really like getting them. That's all I'm sayin' on the matter.**_

_**Hopefully you enjoy, or at least tolerate, my Alice & Jasper.**_

**Chapter 1**

Here

_Alice's Point of View_

Often I look back on my life and wonder how I got here. _Here__,_ people say they are lost. Don't know where they are. Don't know where they're going. Don't remember where they came from. But is that lost? If it is, then I sure as hell am lost inside the most insane labyrinth imaginable. But I don't believe that I am lost. I believe that I am _here._ Some days, it is the only thought that keeps me going. I am here. I came from there, somewhere behind me. I am going _there._ Where or what _there_ is, I'm not quite sure, but I am _not_ lost. I am fully aware of where _here _is. And _her__e _is not somewhere I love, but somewhere that I am stuck. Like a deserted island, with no way out, no boats, no bridges, not even anything to build a raft out of sea turtles, or whatever it was that Jack Sparrow claimed to have done when his crew committed the mutiny. And I couldn't even blame acrew of pirates for this mutiny; this mutiny was all my own doing.

My life was a constant string of mistakes. Choices I made that somehow got twisted around and mangled until they no longer resembled what I initially intended. There were times I wished that I could see the future, and days that I was afraid that if I could, all I would see would be gray, bleak, clouds.

I gasped and swore under my breath. I needed to start paying attention before I sliced through my hand with the paring knife. The knick on my knuckle was bleeding heavily down my hand and dripping off my wrist. I flipped the faucet on and ran my hand under cold water, cursing my stupidity and the waste of time. _He_ would be home soon, and _he_ did not like anything to be late.

I wrapped my finger in paper towel to avoid dripping blood on the carpet, and hurried to the other end of the house to find a band-aid in the bathroom. I dried my hand and laid the sticky bandage on my finger, wrapping it around and testing the flex. Sighing, I headed back toward the kitchen to finish up the salad.Before I was finished, I heard the ominous click of the lock.

"I don't understand why you feel the need to lock the door. It's just plain stupid. We live in the god damned suburbs. Who the hell is going to break in when we have ten thousand neighbours watching our every move?" _His_ voice. _He_ was home. I heard him drop his brief case in the foyer and started tossing the salad.

"I just prefer to have the door locked," I told him, leaving out the part where it gave me warning that he was coming home.

"Whatever. Grab me a beer, will ya? And is dinner not _ready _yet? Christ Alice, I work all fucking day long, and all you have to do is look after this place and you can't even get dinner ready on time?"

And he was right; becauseof him I didn't _need_ to work. Sure, I had the education and the skills, but he made it pretty clear that he made more than enough money to support the household and whatever 'meager' amount I would bring in would make no difference anyway. I lived here, he provided me with a house, and beautiful things, and a nice car. He had the right to be a little bit demanding.

"I'm sorry,"I told him. He scoffed and rattled the beer bottle down on the granite counter top a little bit too hard, causing me to wince.

"I'm not going to break it, Christ!" He threw up his hands and sat himself swiftly down in the chair at the far end of the table. "What are we eating? Or did you not get any further than salad?" His voice was mocking, his face angry. A man, who should be incredibly handsome, had slowly transformed in front of my face. His large, dark eyes were flat and lifeless. His smile never met them and was too toothy, false and intimidating. His hand held mine too tightly in public. His muscles, which I had once found so sexy and appealing, were now terrifying. What he could do to me if he chose made my skin crawl. But Carlos had never hit me. I had seen firsthand what happened when he got angry, and he was a physical person. Vases had been smashed, chairs had been thrown. Did he scare me? Absolutely.

But he loved me. Couples fought, but it didn't mean they didn't still love each other. The question was, did I love him? And I think I did, but I loved the man I'd met more. Theone who had wined and dined me. The one who told me he loved me and that I was beautiful. He didn't do that anymore. He complained. He got angry. He was set in his ways and I needed to learn to respect and accept that, because he accepted me. Too-skinny, too-short, too-simple"me.

"I made pork tenderloin and glazed carrots and mashed potatoes."

He grunted. And then we ate in an awkward, air-buzzingsilence.

The rest of the evening was tense. Just like it always was when Carlos got himself into a state. I did the dishes and went upstairs to shower. He sat on the couch and watched television, completely oblivious to my actions. I finally gathered my courage and went downstairs.

"I'm going to go to bed. I'm tired," I told him.

"Alice," he said without turning around.

"Yes?" I was almost to the foot of the stairs now.

"I'm sorry about tonight," he told me. I turned around, gaping. "I shouldn't have gotten so angry. It was only a few minutes late."

I stepped a little bit closer. "Oh," I said brilliantly. "It's okay. I understand. You work hard." I wondered if maybe he was seeing the error in his ways.

"Come here."

I lifted my eyes to meet his, peering at me over the back of the couch. I nodded and crossed the room to settle myself beside him. He pulled me to him and lay me down in front of him, his big hands combing through my long, dark hair.

"You have beautiful hair," he murmured, his lips playing over the top of my head and down my neck. "And you smell good." I knew what he wanted now. I knew, and it had been a long time, and I wanted it too. So often I didn't believe that he wanted me, desired me in the physical way. I needed to know. If I knew, then his beauty would return. You couldn't find the person you love unattractive. You couldn't find the person who loved you unattractive. I loved him. He was beautiful. I chanted it over and over in my head like a tape loop.I felt his hands drift lower and raise my pajama top, fingers tracing along my belly. And I relaxed into it.

Because I wanted it. I _needed_ it.

And later, after we'd made it to bed and he grunted in release, I lay there, feeling no better than I had before. Maybe even worse.I longed for the time when he made me weak in the knees, when just thinking about his touch made me restless. Instead, he drifted off to sleep, his snores biting into the silence, and I lay beside him, hands clasped in front of me, staring at the ceiling and wondering why it had gone so wrong.

Four years ago I'd met Carlos at a conference he was at for work, back in Baltimore. I'd grown up in Baltimore, gone to school in Baltimore, was working as a server for a catering company _in Baltimore__,_and wanted nothing more than to get out. And Carlos was older, settled, and thought I was the "most beautiful thing he'd ever seen." I was swept away by expensive dinners and nice wine. He stayed in Baltimore after the conference. We spent two weeks together. I was sure I was falling in love. And what wasn't to love? He was charming, attractive, well off. He had a good job, a nice car, and he liked me a whole lot. It was definitely a few steps up from the pot smoking band guys I usually spent my time with. So when he asked me to come to Phoenix with him, who was I to say no? My parents were horrified, naturally, but I was going through a phase where I didn't care what they thought, and that I knew best. I flew home after a month to gather my few belongings that I required and didn't look back. Until about a year into the relationship, when everything changed.

But I was twenty two and he was forty. I had nothing to show for my life. He owned the house, he owned my car. He even owned my clothes. He paid my credit card; he managed my meager bank account. And he loved me. He was doing all of these things because he loved me. He even told me so. And I believed him. But now, three years later, I'm twenty five, and he's forty three, and things are worse, and I was still stuck -_here. _

And, just for arguments' sake, say I wanted out. Where would I go? I had no money, no job, no car. I hadn't spoken to my parents in four years. I had no close friends. Because he'd told me, all he needed was me, and all I should need was him. It was a lonely existence. Sometimes I found myself talking to strangers in the grocery store about the tabloids because at least it was contact with another person. And I was that strange girl that never left her house. I didn't know our neighbours. I knew the family next door to the left had an obnoxious little boy named Jason, mostly because I heard his mother screeching at him constantly. The family to the right had a white cat that pooped in my flower beds. Sometimes Carlos would yell at him when he came home from work. I sighed and rolled over onto my side, pressing my face into the pillow and praying for sleep to come.

********

I got out of my car in the heat of the July morning and swung my purse over my arm. It was so hot and so dry, I could literally feel the weather sucking the moisture from my skin. I hurried towards the cool, air-conditioning of the grocery store and sighed once inside. Maryland had been hot, but with the humidity it was a different heat than the desert. I'd heard so many people say the dry heat didn't feel as hot, but I missed the rain. I gathered the few groceries I needed and headed for the checkout. The older lady behind the counter smiled kindly at me, and I tried to smile back.

"How are you today?" sheasked as she scanned my items.

"I'm great,thank you," I replied, trying to sound chipper. No need to bring down strangers with my rotten mood.

"You look tired, dear," she commented as she checked the price on the red peppers. "Are you a student?"

I shook my head. "I guess I just didn't sleep well. I'm fine. Thank you." She nodded and took the money from me, never looking me in the eye. She handed me back my change and I looked at her name tag. "Thank you,Delia."

"Have a nice day dear. Oh… and dear…" she called as I was almost to the door.

"Yes?"

"It's a hot day. Why don't you stop in at the café across the street and have a cold beverage. You look like you could use one."

I wasn't sure how to take that comment, but I nodded and thanked her, and went toput the groceries in my car. I checked the time and realized that it was still early, and I _was_ quite thirsty, so Idecided to check out the caféthat Delia had suggested.

It was a quaint,little out-of-the-wayplace, with checkered curtains and game boards on the tables. There was a shelf of old, well-used novels on a wall near the door, and a friendly bell when I opened the door. Carlos would never darken the door of a place like this. At the thought of Carlos,I almost turned around and bolted. Almost; instead I made myself take the next step up towards the counter. The teenage girl behind the counter smiled and asked what she could get me. I glanced around quickly before telling her that a small iced coffee and a brownie would be great. She nodded and got my order.

"Are you new around here?" she queried. She seemed to be about eighteen or nineteen, and a little bit overly friendly.

I shook my head, and then added."I live in the suburbs on the other side of the freeway."

"The mansions?" She looked impressed. I giggled a tiny bit.

"I guess so, yeah."

"Wow," she replied. "Well, here's your drink. And your brownie. I'm Maria." She held out her hand and I shook it.

"I'm Alice."

"It's really nice to meet you."

I smiled back to her and went to a table near the wall. The meeting with Maria had been strange and I wondered if I were really that out of touch with reality that a thirty second conversation with the girl in the café was that hard to wrap my head around. I picked apart my brownie as I read the comics in the newspaper and sipped at my iced coffee. The next time I checked my watch it was well past when I needed to be home. I jumped up, left a tip and my dishes on the table,and hurried out the door. As I was driving back to the house,I realized that I hadn't felt so comfortable since I'd lived in Baltimore.

I peeled in the driveway and gathered the groceries in my arms, rushing towards the house and fishing my key from my purse. I got inside and kicked my shoes off before hurrying to put the groceries away and fix dinner. I didn't have much time to find something to make,and hoped Carlos would not kick up too much of a fuss over grilled pork chops, even though we'd had pork the night before.

As it was, he complained. Something about how pork two nights in a row was bad for your intestines. Whatever it was,it was bullshit. He also told me that he hated balsamic dressing. I tried to point out that he'd requested I buy it, but he told me to shut up and that he was watching the game. I sighed and got ready for bed.

****

The next week, on grocery day, I stopped in at the café and was greeted by a man with red hair and glasses. He handed me my iced coffee and my brownie,and smiled a half smile.

"Do I know you?" he asked, cocking his head to the side in curiosity. Taken aback I looked at him closely, and shook my head.

"I don't think so," I answered, taking the coffee and sticking a straw in.

"I'm Peter," he told me.

"Alice," I mumbled, before turning and heading to a table in the middle of the room.

"Where are you from?" he asked, following me.

I looked up at him, confused. "I live in the suburbs on the other side of the freeway."

He shook his head. "No, originally. You have that tiny hint of an accent." Realization must have hit my face.

"Outside of Baltimore, Maryland,"I told him, a tiny smile pulling at my lips. "I thought I'd lost it."

"Most of it," he told me, sitting down opposite me. "But you still have a tiny twang, when you said 'think.'" I laughed, a tiny laugh, but a real laugh all the same. "My friend is from Texas," he continued. "Awful twang. Yours is nothing compared to his." I smiled at his comment. "Alice?" he asked.

"Yes?"

"Are you seeing anyone?" I blinked twice and slowly nodded.

"Yes. I am."

He laughed. "Don't look so happy about it," he joked.

********

My visits to the café became more regular;eventually I was talking myself into two shopping days a week, and therefore two visits to my favourite café. Sometimes it was Maria behind the counter, and sometimes Peter. Once Peter's wife, Charlotte,served me, but she didn't have the people skills that the others did. By October I was a regular, Carlos still didn't know my weekly ritual, and I'd switched to hot coffee, not iced. It was Hallowe'en the day he walked through the door.

"Miss Maria, how are you?" Thedrawl was obvious, andhe leaned over the counter and placed his order, tapping his work boot clad foot on the tile floor.

"Fine, thanks," Maria squeaked, tripping over herself to get his coffee.

"Busy day today?" he continued, straightening up and leaning his hand against the counter. Maria didn't answer, and I finally turned around to see what was going on.

Maria slid his coffee across the counter, and he handed her a bill to pay for it. From the back he was mostly non-descript; blond hair curling slightly out from underneath a well worn, ball cap, blue jeans hanging low and a little bit loose, rips in the pockets that definitely hadn't been there when he'd bought them, anda navy t-shirt stretched across what I assumed was a well muscled back. Normal, perhaps slightly above average, but not really anything to write home about. And then he turned around. And I nearly spat out my mouthful of coffee. Because I'd never seen anything like him in my entire life.

His shoulders appeared broader from the front, perhaps because he was standing up straight, his arms were tanned and muscled, and I could see the blond hairs on them, catching in the lights. And I briefly wondered why I was thinking about his arm hairs. And then he did the unthinkable, and even though there were four empty tables, he came and sat down right beside me. I put my nose right back in the novel I was reading and hoped he would go away. I didn't need the trouble associated with ever being caught talking to someone like him.

"Mornin'," he drawled, reaching over and prying the book from in front of my face.

"Hi," I replied, pulling the book back up and staring blankly at the page. This guy had nerve, and he needed to learn some manners.

"Good book?" he asked, leaning forward and resting his chin on his hand. I quickly yanked my eyes back to the print on the page.

"Yes," I replied curtly, turning the page and reaching for my coffee without diverting my eyes. My blood was pounding in my veins, and I could hear water rushing in my ears, and my fingers were starting to tremble ever so slightly.

His hand rose again and he plucked the book from my hand, closing it and placing it beside him on the table. "I'm not a fan of being ignored," he told me. I didn't respond. I could feel the tips of my ears turning red, and I pushed myself to lean back in my chair. Then I lifted my eyes to his face.

The top half of his face was shadowed from the peak of his ball cap, but I could make out slightly sleepy, bright blue eyes, framed in long, fair lashes. His nose was straight, almost childlike with a tiny swoop, and he had full, pink lips, with one side pulled up in a smirk that I wanted to slap right off, and kiss at the very same time. And I realized that I couldn't be around him, because I couldn't deny that he was attractive, and I couldn't risk being seen with him. I was already taking a risk just coming to the café, but if Carlos were to find out I was spending time or having conversations with other men, he would be inconsolable. Because I was his, and Carlos made it very clear that he did not share.

"I'm sorry," I told him, not sounding sorry at all, I was sure. I took one more look at his sleepy eyesbefore rising from the table and tucking my book under my arm. I crossed the room, opened the door to the happy sounding bell, and hurried towards my car.

***

The house was empty when I got home, as per usual, but I was feeling uneasy. Who was the man with the drawl? Why did he sit with me? Was that normal behaviour? Was I so detached from the real world that I didn't understand a social gesture when it hit me right in the face? Why did I feel attracted to someone who had been so outright rude? Was it normal behaviour to yank a book out of someone's face? And hadn't he ever learned to take his hat off indoors?

Thoughts of the mystery guy swam around in my head as I stacked the toilet paper in the bathroom closet, and reached as high as I could to slowly wiggle the bottle of bathroom cleaner towards the edge of the shelf. It toppled off and I caught it, part of my perfected routine for being so tiny. As I scrubbed the already pristine, white sink, I thought about how his eyes, although sleepy, met mine with intensity like I had never experienced before. Like he had found something he'd been looking for, and couldn't quite believe he'd found it. But that was ridiculous, because I was just Alice, and I'd never seen him, or even someone who looked like him, before in my life. So he couldn't have been looking for me.

I moved on to the shower, scrubbing the grout between the tiles vigorously, ridding the too white bathroom of any germs that could possibly have accumulated since the last time I'd cleaned it. Back and forth, up and down, foam and rinse, and I tried to push the blond stranger from my mind.

That night, for the first time in months, I was late having dinner for Carlos, so I was extra jumpy when he came home from work. And to make matters worse, he was in an excellent mood, or so it seemed. I was still grilling the vegetables when he came in the door. The lock clicked, the briefcase dropped with a thud, and I heard him stride down the hall to the kitchen.

"I'm sorry!" I blurted out as I heard him enter the room. He only shrugged, and I felt his arm go around my waist and his lips touch the top of my head.

"It's fine," he told me, letting me go and opening the fridge to get a beer. I let out a breath I didn't realize I had been holding and continued to move the vegetables around the pan. He loosened his tie and popped the top off his beer, before taking a long drink.

"It's almost ready, I just got busy cleaning," I told him, hoping this wasn't the calm before the storm.

"Hmm," he hummed in response. "Okay."

He was quiet for a while; the odd flip of the page of the newspaper was the only sound above the sizzle of the vegetables. And then: "I need to ask you a question."

I turned off the grill, and tossed the vegetables into a dish.

"What's that?" I took my place at the end of the table, opposite him,and looked at him, trying to keep the crease of worry from between my brows.

"I need to go away for a while, on business. Will you be alright by yourself?"

I cocked my head to the side and looked at him. A million thoughts were flying through my head. Was this a test? Where was he going? When was he coming back? Would he somehow keep tabs on me?

"I think I should be fine," I said quietly, looking down at my folded hands.

"My sister offered to stay with you."

My eyes shot up to his. I wasn't a child. I didn't need to be babysat. "I said, I think I should be fine," I said through clenched teeth.

"Don't," he boomed, standing up and leaning towards me across the table, "take that tone with me!" His face was twisted in fury, his eyes two hardened slits. "You're practically a child. Do not fault me for caring." His voice was a growl, menacing and furious.

"I just didn't want to be any trouble," I replied, because I didn't, but more than that, I wanted him to calm down.

He scoffed at my reasoning and stabbed a steak from the plate in front of him. "You over cooked it," he said after a while of tense silence. I said nothing, just bowed my head in submission and chewed in silence. "Steak isn't rocket science, Alice." I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from saying anything. I was angry, but mostly at myself, because neither of us would be in this position, if I'd just cooked the steak a little bit less, or wasn't such a terrible girlfriend. It was my fault. It always was. He always reacted to something I did or didn't do, and if I could just figure out how to be perfect for him, then we wouldn't have these problems. We could be perfect.

"I leave Thursday morning. I'll be gone for two weeks."

I only nodded.


	2. Chapter 2 Watched

**Disclaimer: Since I forgot to put one on the last chapter (oops!) I'm going to state it now. I don't own any of the Twilight characters. I do own the originals though, and the plot lines etc.**

**A/N: Thank you thank you to my fantastic, very thorough beta, Leon! **

**Also….I like reviews. **

_**Happy Reading!**_

** Chapter 2**

** Watched**

Thursday morning I woke to an empty bed. I rolled quickly to the side and grabbed my bathrobe. Carlos was never the first one up, and I wasn't sure what I would find now that this was the case. I bolted from the room and down the stairs, and looked around. No briefcase, no shoes, no luggage by the door, and – I stepped out onto the front step and looked at the driveway – no overpriced Lexus. He'd left. Without so much as a quick goodbye, he'd left. And the fact that he did, didn't upset me one bit, but the fact that I wasn't upset, upset me greatly.

I stooped to pick up the newspaper from the bottom step and went back inside to make coffee. The lights downstairs were dim, and there was a piece of white computer paper folded in the middle of the granite counter top. ALICE was typed in boring, Times New Roman font. I opened it up and read.

_Alice,_

_My flight is leaving at 6:00. You may reach me on my cell phone if there is an emergency. Lola's number is on the list in my office if you need to reach her. Please leave any mail in my office, on top of the desk. I will return on Friday November 17__th__ in the late evening._

_Carlos._

I read the note over and over, trying to drag some semblance of affection out of the words. I didn't even know where he had gone. I sighed and crumpled the note into a tight ball. Carlos would never change, and I needed to accept that. There was no use being angry, or hurt. He was the way he was, and I was the way I was, and we worked. Perhaps our relationship wasn't perfect, but that wasn't all his fault. I definitely shouldered much of the blame, and I didn't know how to change that, so I couldn't expect him to change.

Carlos rarely travelled for work. Once or twice a year he would go to conventions, but he was usually only gone a few days. He always took me with him. I wondered what was different about this particular convention. And then a terrible thought gripped me, squeezing me like a vice. _What if Carlos was having an affair?_

But no. Carlos loved me. He needed no one _but_ me and he was an honest man. Our relationship was not flawless, but he would never be disloyal. What he did, he did out of love and devotion for me. I was the woman he came home to every night, exactly at ten past six, and I was the woman he spent the evenings with. I chided myself for ever thinking such a thing as I ground the coffee. It would be hard to deny that with Carlos gone for two weeks, it would be much more relaxed around the house. I could eat when I wanted, go out when I wanted, and watch what I wanted on television. I kept myself focused on the good things as I waited for the coffee to brew so I could start my day.

It was strange that even though I had the entire house to myself, I felt compelled to go to the café. It was more comfortable and homey than my home was, and in a way that made me sad. For the first time in years, I thought about my parents' home outside of Baltimore. My mother had gorgeous flower gardens, and my father had a garage that was always a mess and smelled like wood shavings and gasoline. The house was a small, three bedroom bungalow, and my room was on the end. It had a wide window and rust coloured, eighties carpet on the floor. The house had been in desperate need of sprucing up for years, but it was home. Warm and comfortable and mismatched. It was nothing like my house in Phoenix. The house in Phoenix was huge and empty and cold. Light coloured hardwood floors, black, granite counter tops, white cupboards. The outside was grey brick, cold and dull and lifeless.

I pulled the car up in front of the café, picked my book up off the seat, and went inside. Inside the café, the lights were dim and I blinked a few times to let myself get used to the change.

"Alice!" I heard Maria's voice call as soon as the bell chimed and the door closed. "The usual?" I smiled at her and nodded, fishing through my purse for my wallet. "You're not usually in on Thursdays," she observed as she slid my coffee across the counter.

"You're observant," I told her, wrapping my fingers around the hot cup.

"You're predictable," she countered, using the tongs to pick up a brownie from the pan. "I'm on break in a second. Mind if I come sit with you?"

I grinned at her, and realized the stretch felt strange to me. That really couldn't be a good thing. "Sure," I replied, unsure of what else I should say.

She wiped her hands on a towel behind her and poured herself a coffee before joining me at my table.

"What do you do, Alice?" she asked, folding her hands in front of her and waiting patiently.

I didn't have an answer to that question. "I have a degree in Government and Public Policy from the University of Baltimore," I offered. Because I did. And I was proud of that piece of paper.

"Wow," she sounded surprised. "But what do you do now? I mean, you're here a lot. You've been coming in regularly for months, but I have no idea who you are."

I shrugged and began to crumble up my brownie. "Mostly I look after the house. I'm not currently working." It sounded bad, and I wasn't sure what I could say to make it better. If I mentioned Carlos and how he made enough that I didn't need to work, I sounded like a kept woman. _I was, in fact, a kept woman._

"Oh," Maria said, the smile faltering on her face. "Are you married?" Her eyes flicked to my left hand ever so quickly. I shook my head. She only nodded.

I heard the door open and saw Maria gasp. "He is so good looking!" she whispered to me, though I was sure the entire café could hear it. I turned briefly to see who had come in and froze. It was the blond stranger who had so rudely interrupted me earlier in the week. I turned back to Maria and rolled my eyes.

"Attractive but rude," I whispered back quietly.

"Alice!" she hissed, standing and heading for the counter. The man walked up, drummed his fingers quickly on my table, and continued to the front where he placed his order. Leaning against the refrigeration unit, he turned to face me, and quirked a half smile on his delicious lips. I groaned inwardly. I had a strange feeling this man was going to be trouble for me.

"Mornin' darlin'," he greeted me, sitting down opposite me and propping his elbows on the table. "I don't think you gave me a chance to introduce myself the other day."

I could feel him looking at me, but I couldn't look up. My heart was pounding in my throat and my hands were clammy, and I didn't understand why I was having this reaction to a perfect stranger. So I stared at the table and swung my foot back and forth, willing him to go away. Instead I felt two fingers lift my chin so that I was at eye level with him. I tried to look anywhere but, because if I looked at him I was afraid I would burst into flames, or melt into the ground or something equally as awful. And if I just ignored him, then maybe he would go away and I could go back to being the crazy girl who didn't talk to people.

"I'm Jasper," he said quietly, keeping his fingers gently under my chin. "And all I know about you is that you're frightened."

I snapped my eyes to his and glared. I was not frightened! I was merely trying to act disinterested. I made a disgusted noise in my throat, and tried to look away. He waited patiently, his sleepy eyes soft and sad and meeting my angry, sharp ones. Finally I caved. "Alice," I whispered, finally allowing my eyes to shift away from his face and back towards the table.

"Am I that horrible?" he asked, finally releasing my face and taking a sip of his coffee. His face was guarded and he looked concerned. I shook my head.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "That was rude. I just…" Howcould I explain? How could I tell him that my boyfriend would make my life hell if I was even seen speaking to the likes of him? "I'm in a bad place?" I posed the statement like a question, fully aware that it was a terrible, cop out answer. He snorted indignantly.

"A bad place? I sat down to talk to you and you tell me you're _in a bad place? _That's pretty lame."

I stared at him, eyes wide with shock. And then I started to laugh, a tiny little titter, as though I wasn't quite sure it was appropriate. "You're right," I finally managed. "It is pretty lame." _And so is the real answer._ And then the observation was out and I slapped my hand over my mouth as though I had said it aloud. _Jasper_ gave me a strange look. One where he tilted his head to the left and scrunched both eyebrows down so they nearly met in the middle. I giggled, mostly at the wrinkles over the bridge of his nose.

"What?" he asked in a strange voice, muffled I would assume from the strange position his face was in. I laughed harder. "Well shit, Alice," he muttered, his face relaxing and his eyes flashing in irritation. "Why are you laughing?" I saw the corner of his mouth begin to twitch up ever so slightly. I squeezed my eyes shut momentarily and took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry. I'm not sure I've laughed that hard in a while," I admitted hastily, and then immediately regretted it. Why would I admit that to a perfect stranger? I may as well have told him my entire life story. Instead of saying anything he reached across the table and broke off a piece of my brownie, and popped it in his mouth.

"This is really good," he mumbled through the brownie. My eyes widened in horror. He wore his hat inside _and_ he spoke with his mouth full. He started to laugh even harder than I had been, his head thrown back and his hand slapping his leg forcefully. "Oh fuck!" he gasped, trying to pull himself together. He took his hat off and ran his hands through his mess of curls. "You did _exactly_ what I thought you would," he told me, leaning towards me. And I had the strongest urge to reach out and brush one stray curl from his forehead. Instead, I kept my hands folded firmly in my lap. He _had_ spoken with his mouth full _and_ laughed at me after all.

"What are you _talking_ about?" I could hear the pitch of my voice rising as I started to get worked up, and I took a cleansing breath. There was no need to get upset. There were far more upsetting things in this world than a man in the café laughing at me for a horrified expression pointed at his lack of simple manners.

He chuckled lightly again. "Miss goody-two-shoes, ballroom dancing debutante. Am I correct?" His left eyebrow rose toward his hairline as he posed the question. I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Hardly," I drawled coldly. I had wanted to attend the cotillion. Begged and pleaded with my mother, but she didn't believe in 'such nonsense.' Jasper reached out and fingered the pearls on my necklace. I focused on keeping myself from leaning into his touch. I could not deny that I wanted to feel his fingers against my flesh, but I could convince myself that it was very wrong.

"I'm sorry if I offended you," he whispered, his warm breath brushing across my jaw line. I suddenly realized how close he had gotten and shoved my chair back with force, my breathing a bit more laboured than usual. _What was I doing? What was going on? Why did I feel this way about a complete stranger?_ I rubbed my tiny hands over my face rapidly and took a deep breath. My reactions to Jasper were ridiculous. I loved Carlos. I was just craving other human contact and Jasper was providing it. It was a stupid, juvenile reaction, and it was going to stop immediately.

"I think I should go," I said clearly, leveling my eyes with his.

"Why?" I turned in my half standing position and leaned against the table.

"What do you mean, why?"

"I mean, is there somewhere you need to be?" I only nodded. As I left the coffee shop I saw Peter come out of the back and clap Jasper on the shoulder.

"You're a sucker for punishment, my friend," I heard as I quickly closed the door.

***

I wove my way through traffic, all the while thinking about Jasper, and his hat, and his golden curls, and his mouth full of brownie, and his muscles. I groaned out loud at the absurdity of the situation. "I love Carlos," I lectured myself as my car squealed to a halt at a red light. "I love Carlos," I reminded myself once more as I pressed the gas pedal when the light turned green. If I said it enough, it would become the only thought left at the forefront of my mind; memories of Jasper floating away as quickly as they blew in.

When I arrived at the house I was surprised to see another car in the driveway. No one ever visited us, and until that very moment I'd never really thought about how strange that was. But there, sitting on the patch of black asphalt outside our house, was a bright red convertible. I moved my eyes to the door and my heart jumped violently to my throat. The woman standing at the door, looking extremely irritated was Carlos's vile younger sister, Lola.

"Where have you been?" she demanded, her beautiful face twisted in anger. Every step she took towards me was punctuated by a sharp _click_ of her stiletto on the asphalt. I stepped from my car and appraised her. Lola was tall, much taller than I was, though that was no feat, and thin in the extreme. She always wore professionally tailored suits with crisp blouses and shoes that made unnecessary noise. Her dark hair was _always_ pulled back in a French twist, and her nails were _always_ long and red. Her face was beautiful in a symmetrical way, though her eyes were cold and calculating. She reminded me of a Disney villainess personified.

"I've been out," I snapped at her, sounding far braver than I felt. I was waiting for her to offer me a poisoned apple or something. I almost wished I had some dwarf friends.

"Where? Carlos asked me to keep an eye on you, and when I stop by you're nowhere to be found."

I couldn't tell her where I'd been, because I wasn't ready to give up my secret to Carlos yet, so I settled on remaining vague. "I've just been out and about." I leaned against my car, channeling my completely artificial cool and forced a smile. "Was there something you needed?" My voice sounded smaller and more frightened than I had hoped. I missed the sickly sweet sarcasm I'd been aiming for by a mile.

She rolled her eyes in a very childlike manner for someone who was supposedly so mature and tapped her fingernails on the hood of my car. "I have to get back to the office. It would do you well to remember your place, Alice." She smoothed her suit jacket,_ clicked_ her way back to her car,and started it up. I slumped back against my car as she smoothly disappeared out of sight, and sighed. Lola was going to throw a wrench into my two weeks of freedom, and that fact made me hate her even more than I already did. Carlos did what he did out of love and devotion, Lola was just cruel and cunning. She had the ability to reduce me to a puddle of useless, trembling goo in a matter of seconds, and did it only for her own enjoyment and because in some twisted way, she thought that it would gain her brother's love and respect.

"_It would do you well to remember your place, Alice,_" I mocked childishly as I unlocked the door and closed myself in the cool, sterile house.

***

The next day I went to do groceries. I had finished all of the milk, so I broke my regular Tuesday grocery routine and drove into the city once more. As I was unloading my basket I looked up and smiled. Delia, the nice woman who had told me about Peter's café so many months ago,smiled right back.

"Good morning," I gushed brightly as I unloaded the last item onto the conveyor belt.

"How are you, dear?" she asked in her kind, grandmotherly voice. "I haven't seen you in a dog's age."

I laughed quietly and moved up towards the cash register. "You just haven't been working when I've been in. I'm doing just fine, thanks."

She nodded and began to scan my items, stopping every so often to punch a few keys for the produce. "Did you check out the café? My son owns it, you know." I was surprised that she even remembered that she'd recommended _my_ café.

"I did. It's lovely. You're Peter's mother?" She only nodded. "I go there a lot," I told her as I handed her my card to pay for the groceries.

"Have you met that nice young man?" I saw a small smile playing on her too-pink lips.

"Peter? Of course I have." I was sure that wasn't what she was talking about, but I wasn't about to divulge any information to the grocery store lady.

She shook her head. "No, no. His friend. Blond, tall, handsome." She winked. "Jasper Whitlock. He's quite new in town. No family around but I met him at Peter and Charlotte's back in the summer. Had a big barbeque." She handed me back my card and lifted my bags to me. "Such a nice young man, but a bit lonely I think. I don't know you well, but I think you two might just get along." She tapped her finger on her temple mystically and winked again. "Have a nice day, dear."

"You too," I managed to squeak out as I fled the store.

If I were honest with myself, I felt a very strong pull towards Jasper, even in the short amount of time we'd spent together. If he were within touching distance, my fingers twitched as I restrained from touching him, and my eyes, while straining to look anywhere but, always drifted back to his face. I remembered the day before when his breath breezed by my jaw and the shivers it sent down my spine. I enjoyed his voice, deep and twangy; the way he said my name, slowly, as though tasting it on his tongue. And then I laughed at myself, because I sounded like a cheesy romance novel, but I dumped the groceries in my backseat, found one of those cool, insulated bags for my milk, hiding in the back of one of the seats, and hurried across the road to the café.

The bells announced my arrival, and my eyes immediately went to the table to the left of the room, and his eyes lifted towards the door and he gave me a wary smile, which I returned nervously.

"Maria!" his voice called through the shop. "Alice is here. Can you grab her a coffee and one of those delicious sins you call a brownie?" He turned back to me and smirked before motioning me over. I shouldn't have gone. I shouldn't have given in, but his very presence called and I began my slow descent on him.

"Hi," I whispered, still standing as he slid over on the bench he was sitting on. I reached for the chair but he shook his head.

"Come sit beside me, darlin'," he drawled as he patted the spot beside him. I felt my heart begin to race but I slid gracefully in beside him none the less. Maria arrived with my coffee and brownie and I thanked her profusely. She only laughed, winked, and hurried back to the counter. _What was with all the winking?_ "You left in an awful hurry yesterday." He turned towards me and looked at me through his thick lashes.

"I was late," I lied, looking away and pretending to take in all of the other customers.

"You're lying," he accused, reaching out and placing his large hand on top of my tiny one, which, until that moment I hadn't noticed was bouncing on the table nervously. "And you're terrible at it," he added.

I sighed, wondering how much I could actually tell him, and inwardly blanching when I realized I wanted to tell him everything.

"Why are you here so often?" I asked him, deciding that avoiding his comment was the best course of action.

"Why are _you_ here so often?" I made a face and took a sip of my coffee.

"It _used_ to be peaceful," I countered with a smirk. He grinned.

"Do I ruin the tranquil feel of the place?" His face was awfully close to mine and I could feel his hot breath and see the tiny flare of his nostrils as he breathed. His hand was still holding mine on the table, and I could not make myself move it.

"Perhaps," I said quietly, willing myself to stay calm but knowing that my heart was pounding out of my chest and my ears were probably bright red.

"You're not Phoenix born and bred, are you?" The fingers of his free hand reached out to play with the ends of my long, dark hair.

"Nope," I popped my 'p' cheekily. "Baltimore."

"You're a long way from home," he commented, still rubbing the ends of my hair between his fingers.

"Yeah," I breathed.

His hand slowly moved further up my hair, smoothing it down inch by inch between the pads of his fingers and thumb, and I reveled in how intimate it felt, and waited for the guilt to wash over me, but all I felt was calm and warmth.

"Alice?" He stopped playing with my hair and touched the side of my face instead. I felt as though waves were crashing around my body and that light touch was the only thing keeping my head above water, and I leaned into the gentle touch without realizing it. "Have you been to the botanical gardens?"

I was taken aback by the question, and I was sure my shock showed on my face, but Jasper _did not_ seem like the botanical gardens type. I shook my head slowly.

"Do you want to _go_ to the botanical gardens?"

_Like a date? As friends? Because Delia was right and he was lonely? _I could keep that secret from Carlos. I'd been keeping the café secret for months after all, and Lola would never think to look for me there. And really, as much as Carlos disagreed, there was nothing wrong with me having friends. And with Carlos away I didn't really _need_ to be home. I nodded slowly, not ever vocalizing my inner monologue, and Jasper's face broke into an honest to goodness grin.

"I'll pick you up at your place tomorrow?" He let go of my hand and looked at me expectantly-waiting. "I need to get back to work," he said quietly, answering my silent question. I nodded.

"Wait! No!" I called as he was heading for the door. I watched his shoulders slump slightly and he turned around looking a bit lost.

"No? You don't want to go?"

"No, I do," I replied. "But can I meet you here?"

"I won't stalk you and watch you while you sleep, Alice."

I sighed, worried that I'd offended him, but I knew my way was safer. "I know," I told him, rising and crossing the room to meet him. "But I'd just feel better if I met you here." I looked up at him pleadingly. "Please?" I let my fingers brush his arm softly and was surprised at my own gall. He cracked a small smile and nodded.

"I'll see you here at ten."


	3. Chapter 3 Cacti

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or its characters. I do own the plot line and the original characters.**

**A/N: Thanks to my awesome, very prompt beta, Leon. My grammar would be atrocious without him!**

**Chapter 3**

**Cacti**

"You know, Alice," Lola started as she picked at her spinach salad without gusto, "my brother is a difficult man. He's easy enough to get along with so long as things go his way. Up until recently, you'd been doing pretty well. But Alice, you don't want to make him angry." She stabbed a piece of spinach and shook as much dressing as she possibly could off of the leaf. "Yesterday, when I came over and you weren't here…well, that was a mistake. You can't make mistakes like that." She took a sip of her wine and flexed her fingers against each other. I sat stiffly, opposite her, barely touching my salad.

"You're young," she continued, prodding her salad with the tines of her fork. "You need to be taken care of and Carlos will do just that. But do not piss him off." She chewed thoughtfully. "I would have thought you would have this figured out by now. Don't piss him off, and by that, I mean don't piss me off either. I'm fair but I'm not easy." Her hard eyes bore into mine and I fought to look away. I had the greatest urge to mock her in a childish, Mickey Mouse voice. Instead I settled for nodding curtly and staying silent.

Lola was a bitch. There were very few people I referred to as such; however she took the number one position on that list. She was nasty and manipulative, and there were many traits in her that I also saw reflected in Carlos. However Carlos held things over my head that Lola did not, and for that reason alone, I was slightly more willing to stand up for myself against Lola. _Slightly._

I was aware that I pussy footed my way around Carlos to keep him content, because even though I was lonely and unhappy, I was a lot happier when Carlos was content than when he was angry. I would rather be lonely than scared.

I focused back in on Lola to realize she'd finished her salad and I stood to collect her plate. "I'll just get the main course," I stuttered as I hurried to gather the dishes, clinking them and making unnecessary noise. I cringed at the sound.

"Don't bother," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. The red of her fingernails blurred in my line of vision. "I'm on a new diet and really, I can't have any fat or starches or animal products." I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "I _think_ it's working," she continued, holding her arm out in front of her and twisting it this way and that.

I bit back a sigh and began to rinse the dishes and load the dishwasher. "Coffee then, Lola?" I asked, wiping my hands on the plaid dishtowel hanging off the fridge door.

"No, no. It goes against my diet as well." I resisted the urge to tell her that wine probably didn't follow her diet either. The last thing I wanted was an irate Lola in my house.

She had invited herself to dinner, showing up shortly before Carlos usually did, while I was going through my closet to find something to wear with Jasper the next day. Apparently if she wasn't living with me, she was checking on me quite regularly, and I was one hundred per-cent sure it was by Carlos' request.

"I suppose I should head home," she announced as I sat back down. "Hate to eat and run but I'm a busy person. I have things to do." The holier-than-thou attitude was starting to get on my nerves and I had to repress the urge to laugh at her.

"Thanks for dropping by," I nearly simpered in my attempt to sound sweet and genuine. I missed the mark by a mile. I didn't care one bit.

"I'm sure we'll see each other soon, Alice," she replied in an equally sickly-sweet tone. I breathed a heavy sigh of relief as she closed the door behind her.

***

The next day dawned cloudy, a very rare feat in Phoenix, and I grinned. Sometimes azure skies and piercing sunlight got tiresome. It _was_ November after all. November was supposed to be a grey month. At home November was grey and cool and damp. Exactly the way November was meant to be. In Phoenix it was sunny and dry and warm. Not at all November-ish. And sometimes a girl needed clouds.

I pulled a lightweight cardigan over my tank-top and jeans, and snagged my keys from the table by the door. I was almost to my car before I realized I'd forgotten shoes. And a purse. I sighed loudly, turned around, and sprinted back to the house,fumbling with the key in the lock and shoving the door open with far more force than was necessary. I found my purse on one of the stools by the breakfast bar, and shoved my feet into the nearest pair of flats I could find before running back out the door, vaguely resembling a child on her first day of school - full of excitement and fear and disorganization. By the time I made it to the parking lot next to the café, I had flipped off ninety percent of the population on the road and nearly hammered dents into my dashboard in my impatience. And I was still fifteen minutes early.

"Hear you and Jasper have a date," were the first words I heard upon opening the door to the café. It was Peter working behind the counter. I hurried across the room, slight bounce in my step that I wasn't quite used to and hit the counter with a _slap._

"It's not a date," I hissed, leaning towards him and narrowing my eyes. He couldn't go around _saying_ those things. Someone Carlos knew might have stopped in for coffee.

"Oh, right," he said too loudly. "You're seeing someone but you're not happy about it." He rolled his eyes and poured me a coffee. "Does Jasper know?"

"Know what?" I asked as I wrapped my hands around the mug.

"About the man in your life."

I shrugged and turned to pour cream into the steaming mug.

"Are you going to tell him?"

I shrugged again, watching the cream swirl in the coffee, avoiding the question. _Would I tell him? Should I tell him? He would judge me if he knew all the gory details. He would probably back off if I even told him the basics. Did I want him to back off? I wanted to want him to back off._ I sighed.

"You should tell him," Peter told me as he pointed for me to sit down so the next customer could order. I only nodded slowly, fully aware that he was right.

***

"Alice!" At ten o'clock sharp, Jasper bounded through the door, looking almost as excited as I had felt leaving the house that morning. Unfortunately, Peter – my moral compass - had ruined my mood.

"Hi," I breathed, forcing a smile.

"Are you ready?" He tugged on the sleeves of his jean jacket looking a little bit nervous. I nodded and followed him out of the café, watching his jacket move over his back as he swung his arms. "This is me," he drawled, pointing at an older model truck sitting a few spaces down from my little car.

"Apparently you're not concerned for the environment," I blurted out before I realized what I was saying. He only laughed.

"I work for a roofing company. It's a lot easier to carry tools and lumber and shingles in a truck than a compact car." He opened the door for me and helped me up. "It's a bit of a long way up, darlin'."

And then he was in the driver's seat and the engine roared to life, and I jumped about a foot in the air. Jasper laughed until I saw tears blooming in his eyes. "Guess I should've warned you, Miss. Honda Civic." I blushed and buckled my seatbelt before he could scare me again.

The drive to the gardens was quiet. I was lost, deep in thought about my predicament with Jasper and Carlos. Did Jasper consider this a date? I thought back to other dates I'd been on in my life. When I was a teenager I thought that cheap beer in a garage while the guy I was with practiced with his wannabe band was a date. Fancy was pizza eaten at the restaurant followed by naughty business in the backseat of a car. When I was in college, bars, clubs,and movie theatres were popular destinations for evenings out, most often followed by naughty business on a single bed in a dorm room. And then I'd met Carlos. And dates consisted of fancy dinners, formal galas, live theatre, the opera, a ballet performance. During the day he used to take me to famous museums and art galleries. We spent a weekend away, wine tasting. I stifled a sigh. That was how it had used to be. Chaste kisses in public, whispers of "I love you" and "You're beautiful," and slow, soft, delicate love making afterwards. There was nothing naughty or hot about sex with Carlos. It always built slowly, and peaked gently, and then we fell. There was no frantic climb, no sudden drop. There was no spiraling out of control. But that was okay, because we made love, there was no naughty fucking involved. We were two people in love. So it was different. It was how it was supposed to be. And sometimes I reached a plateau, and that was normal. No woman climaxed _every_ time.

I blushed at my thoughts and turned my attention back to Jasper; but not before I began to wonder what sex would be like with him.

"Are you going home for Christmas?" His voice broke the silence and he glanced over to me, obviously expecting an answer. I shook my head.

"No, I'll stay here," I told him, purposely leaving Carlos out of the picture. He smiled a grim smile. "You?" I knew it was lame to ask the same question I'd been asked, but I didn't know what else to say.

"Nah," he replied, eyes sharp on the road. "Peter's mother already invited me though. So I won't be alone."

"That's good," I whispered, staring straight down at my knees.

"Yeah," he drawled slowly as he flipped on his signal light. "We're here." He shut the truck off with a sputtering grumble. "Ready to look at some fabulous cacti?"

I giggled. "There's a monarch butterfly exhibit too," I told him. He jumped out of the truck and opened my door with a creak.

"How do you know?" He was down on one knee, hand extended up. I must have looked astonished because he laughed out loud. "Come on Alice. Use the step. Have some fun." He rolled his eyes at me and grabbed my hand. I stepped out onto his knee, and then to the ground.

"I googled," I admitted and he laughed again.

"Google does _not_ do justice to this place."

"Well did _you_ know about the butterflies?" I asked as he stood up and grabbed my hand almost roughly.

"Maybe," he smirked.

"You're lying," I laughed.

"Fine, you win. I didn't know about the butterflies." He led me through the shop and paid admission. "Now Alice. Remember, it's not safe to touch the cacti."

"Really?" I did my best to sound genuinely innocent as I reached one hand towards a rather large, flowering plant. "But they're so… pretty."

He scoffed at my dramatics and pulled my arm away from the cactus. "You're strange."

I shrugged and walked slowly down the path, examining different cacti and plants as we went, reading off interesting bits from the plaques next to the display. Jasper followed behind me, and I could sense his presence close to me, like a tingling in my body. Every so often he would step a bit too close and brush my arm, and then he would back off again, in a strange, nervous dance. I wanted to reach out and grab his hand and place it on the small of my back, and tell him to leave it there. But I didn't, I couldn't. Because leading him on in that fashion was wrong. I was unavailable and I was already giving him mixed signals. So I continued to walk, ignoring the tingling in my back as he got closer, and pulling myself back and forth between hoping that he would man up and close the difference, and hoping that he kept his distance. Because as soon as he touched me, all bets would be off. I couldn't deny my attraction to him, but I could control myself if I was being forced into action, or non-action.

"I like this one," I said eventually as we came to a display of short, round cacti surrounded by large rocks. I crouched down to get a better look, and immediately wanted to touch them. The spikes looked dull, and the surface between them was green and ribbed. The cute, chubbiness of them made me smile to myself.

"Do I need to remind you not to touch them?" he asked in my ear as he lowered himself to crouch beside me. I jumped and nearly toppled over at the sensation of his warm breath on my neck. He reached out one strong arm and steadied me back on my feet. I shuddered in satisfaction as his warm palm sent shockwaves through me and I sighed.

"No," I choked out in a whisper. I turned and met his sleepy, blue eyes; more alert than I'd ever seen them before. Smoldering. His mouth was pursed a little bit, as though deep in thought, and I watched his Adams apple bob as he swallowed. My heart raced and my face heated up. My hand gripped his arm, and his hand went to my long, thick hair, and he tilted his face slightly, as though testing me. And I wanted it so badly. I knew what he wanted and I began to lean in. And then…

"And this is what we call a barrel cactus," a sharp voice announced. "Timothy, pay attention and _stay with the group!_"

A school tour.

We broke apart and rose to our feet quickly.

"Does anyone know what colour of flowers the barrel cactus produces?" I turned to look at the woman who was speaking, and interrupting us at inopportune moments. She was stunning; tall and blonde with her long hair pulled into an ornate twist at the nape of her neck. She was holding a clip board and looked slightly annoyed. "_Timothy!_ Do _you_ know what colour of flowers the barrel cactus produces?" Her blue eyes snapped to the back of the group where a gangly kid was obviously not paying attention. He rolled his eyes, pressed his glasses onto his face and stood up straight.

"No," was his saucy reply. I'd never known a child to be able to demonstrate such disrespect in the utterance of one word.

"Can you take a guess?" The teacher asked, looking more and more agitated as each second went by.

"Blue," he sneered.

"Does anyone else know? Since Timothy was clearly not paying attention in class."

An eager little girl with red pigtails bounced up and down. I bit back a smile. She reminded me of myself as a small child, eager and excited and a bit of a know it all.

"Yes, Annabelle?" The teacher gave her a genuine, kind smile.

"Orange. And after the flowers bloom they make pineapple like fruits, but you shouldn't eat them." She put her hands on her hips and looked proudly around at the group.

"_Very _good," the teacher gushed. She talked a bit more, and I turned to Jasper, silently asking if we could move on, but he held up one finger, asking me to wait.

"Miss Hale?" Jasper stepped forward as her group began to huddle around the cactus display. I stepped back; sure I didn't want to be shoved into a prickly cactus by ten overly excited third graders.

"Jasper! How are you? Glad to see you're enjoying your day off." The teacher, who was apparently named Miss Hale and who apparently Jasper knew, turned sweet and charming. A far cry from her harsh, sharp tone earlier. I wondered how they knew each other. I felt a stab of something painful in my chest and shook it off.

"I am. This is Alice." He beckoned me over to shake her hand and I realized just how tall she had to be. She had to have at least six inches on me, maybe more, but she shook my hand and smiled.

"My company is putting the roof on Miss Hale's new house," Jasper offered. I looked at Miss Hale's left hand and was pleased to see a large diamond adorning her perfectly manicured ring finger.

"We're very excited that the house is coming along so well. Emmett is just itching to get out of that tiny apartment." She smiled at me and at Jasper once more. "I should catch up with them before someone needs to go to the emergency room to have a piece of cactus removed. It was good to see you, Jasper. Nice to meet you, Alice." She hurried off towards the group and I silently sighed in relief.

"Her fiancé is really cool," he muttered in my ear as we walked away. "She, on the other hand, is a bit of a frigid bitch. She can turn on the charm when she needs to though." He pushed me further down the path, every so often pointing at different plants and rocks and commenting, but I wasn't paying attention. I was listening to the tone of his voice. I was memorizing it. I was feeling the warmth of his hand on my back, and burning it to my memory forever. In case it was my last moment with Jasper. Any moment could be my last moment with Jasper. The day Carlos returned would definitely be my last moment with Jasper.

It frightened me how that thought sent white hot panic shooting through my veins.


	4. Chapter 4 Selfish

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or its characters. I do own the story line.**

**A/N: Thank you so much to my fabulous Beta Leon.**

**I'm very sorry this has taken so long....life got busy.**

**I really love reviews.**

**Chapter 4**

**Selfish?**

"Thanks for coming with me." Jasper pulled his truck into the parking lot of the café and cut the noisy engine. "I may curse that school tour for a while though," he chuckled. I gave him a tight smile and reached to unbuckle my seatbelt.

"Thank you," I whispered, bending and twisting the strap on my purse, not really wanting to leave the cab of the truck, and with it, Jasper.

"For cursing the school trip?" Humour danced in his eyes and I exhaled a tiny laugh.

"For taking me," I murmured to my knees. "You know," I flailed my hands around, trying to explain myself, "to the gardens." I snapped my head to the right and peered out the window. His warm hand touched my knee briefly.

"Alice? What's wrong?" His voice sounded deeply concerned and I knew he was confused. I knew I had been slightly colder to him since the school tour incident; however it was more the moment of my realization. I _could not_ be emotionally dependent on someone I had only just met and barely knew, however that was how it was beginning to seem. But if I told him that, I would appear as a clingy, crazy bitch. So instead of appearing clingy and crazy, I was beginning to appear bi-polar. Hot one moment, cold the next.

"I…nothing." I shook my head. "I should be getting home." I reached for the door handle but he grabbed my elbow.

"Alice," he whispered lowly.

"I had a really nice time," I murmured, looking back at him and taking in his sad, confused expression. In that moment I wanted nothing more than to tell him everything,and then throw everything in my past out the window for him. To leave everything behind and have no worries. But that wasn't possible. I settled for turning back to him and quirking the left side of my lip up in a sad, half-smile. "I'm sorry," I whispered, reaching out and brushing the back of my hand along his stubbly cheek. I felt him lean forward towards me and he pressed his lips hard to my temple.

"Meet me here Monday at four," he whispered hoarsely. I nodded slowly and turned for the door handle once more, feeling the fire from his lips on my face as I stepped into the cool air and hurried for my car. I didn't trust myself to look back.

***

The soft _thunk_ of the power locks unlocking snapped me out of my daze momentarily as I made myself slide into the seat and turn the key in the ignition. I lowered my head to the steering wheel and breathed deeply, trying to settle my racing heart and cool my fiery body.

Such a chaste kiss to my temple should not overheat my body or set fireworks off behind my eyes. I felt tingly; all cold and hot at the same time. For the first time in years, I longed for a girlfriend to talk to, so I could dissect every tiny action he hadmade and piece it together to finish the puzzle. But the only girls I knew were Lola, and Maria. And as much as I enjoyed our brief conversations, I couldn't really treat Maria as a confidante, and for a basket full of obvious reasons, Lola was not the ideal candidate.

Immediately my thoughts turned to my younger sister, Cindy. When we were younger,we used to share secrets with each other. We had been extremely close, and I had been able to tell her anything without worrying that the information might fall upon the wrong ears. Cindy was a vault except within the confines of one of our bedrooms.

The realization that I had no one hit me hard. I'd never worried about it previously, but faced with the predicament, reality cut through my perfect life façade like a knife,and I longed for the day when I had a sister to confide in, friends to gossip with, a family to love. In four long years I hadn't very often longed for those things. I truly believed that where I was was where I was supposed to be. I was a true believer in the '_everything happens for a reason'_ philosophy, and for the first real time in my life, I was beginning to question that theory.

My family had made it clear that they disapproved of my choice to move in with Carlos. I remembered my mother's very choice words, and they echoed clearly in my mind:"_He's a nice man, Alice. Nice enough but there is something off. What does he want with a fresh, bright eyed, twenty-one year old? You haven't got the life experience to match him, just youth and a tight ass. No good can come of this relationship. No good in the long run anyway."_

Her 'just youth and a tight ass' comment was what did me in. If my own mother thought I was nothing more than that, then what Carlos was offering was a far better option. He _loved_ me. He'd told me so, and backed it up with actions. My mother told me she loved me, and then told me I was nothing more than a sex object. It should have been obvious which road I would choose. I hadn't had contact with any of my family members beyond a Christmas card I sent them the first year I spent it with Carlos. It was mostly my own fault. I hadn't even sent them a return address. I'd changed my email address and closed old accounts, upon Carlos' suggestion that the old email address was childish, and obviously I had a new telephone number. I hadn't contacted them, but they hadn't looked hard for me either.

I wasn't even aware of my drive home until I turned my car off in the driveway. The sun was setting and the windows in my house were reflecting back the scenes outside. The neighbours' cat wound itself around my legs as I walked up the steps. I bent down to scratch it behind the ears before I unlocked the door to my lonely house.

The house held no good memories, no truly happy moments. There was just Carlos, his life, and me. I flicked on the hall light and looked around. The living room was furnished with black, leather furniture up against two walls, and a glass topped coffee table in the middle. Business journals and car magazines were stacked neatly underneath, the top held only the container of cork coasters. There was a large flat screen mounted on the wall opposite the large couch, and the drapes in that room, black and heavy, were always drawn. On the wall not housing the television was an abstract painting. The only thing I liked about the room was the painting. I _hated_ leather furniture.

The entire house, what was supposed to be my home, radiated Carlos. The décor was cold, and business like. The kitchen was black and white, and I spent hours keeping the cupboard doors mark free, and the granite counter tops shiny and free of smudges.

I dropped my purse on the breakfast bar and continued to wander through the house. The hall walls were a pale beige that reminded me of the desert sand on a cloudy day, with drab water colours in expensive frames breaking up the monotony. The formal dining room housed antique furniture that was never touched. He told me that the furniture came from his great-grandmother and that it was only to be used when entertaining important guests. We never had guests. Twice a week I dusted the shiny, mahogany surfaces and closed the French doors once more on the unused room. Unfortunately for me, it was my favourite room in the house. The dark, antique wood complimented the darker, rust coloured walls, and the art that adorned the walls was classic and made a statement. Consequently, it was Carlos least favourite room. He told me it was stuffy and cramped. I began to realize that we had less in common than I'd dreamed.

I sighed, closed the door on my favourite room,and turned on the television to a pointless, evening talk show, listening while the host discussed relationship problems with the woman on stage with her. I reheated the dinner I'd made the night before for Lola, and sat down to watch the show. The woman on stage was telling the host, through mascara stained tears, that her husband hit her, and once locked her in their basement for two days without food or water. A neighbour had suspected that something was wrong and contacted authorities and the husband had been charged. The host and her guest were discussing why the woman had never contacted anyone before about the abuse.

I always wondered why abused women never got out of the unhealthy relationship. It was clear to me that if someone hit me or locked me in a basement, or broke my arm, that I should end the relationship and run as fast as I could in the other direction. Abuse was something I was taught was not to be tolerated within a relationship.

I listened to the woman discuss her husband's drug problem as well as his anger issues and I wondered again why she let it spin so far out of control. On the surface the woman appeared to be an attractive, educated, well spoken and intelligent woman. Perhaps she was blinded by love, but how was it possible to love someone who caused bodily harm first hand? I shuddered and turned the television off, not wanting to ruin my evening with the sobs of someone who wasn't willing to fix their problems.

***

I decided the best way to relax after a wonderful, albeit trying,day was to have a bath in the Jacuzzi tub. That waswhat normal women did, right? Had a hot bubble bath with a glass of wine and a good book? As I set my glass of chardonnay on the bathroom sink and waited for the tub to fill with warm water and the room to fill with fragrance, I peeled my clothing off and tossed it in the laundry basket. As I was walking towards the bathroom I caught a glimpse of my naked self in the full length mirror. I stopped and stared.

My skin was a light tan, obvious that I spent little time in the sun; and I could see the lines from different outfits varying the shades of tawny skin. My arms were speckled with freckles and tiny moles, imperfections on an already imperfect canvas. My hair was long, dark and straight as a poker, hanging neatly down my back, simple and inoffensive. Neither offering nor retracting from my appearance. I traced my hands over my sides to settle on my hips, following them with my eyes. My fingers ran lightly over the shallow xylophone of my ribs, dipping gently as I came to my middle, my fingers closing more as they pinched my too-thin sides. My hips flared out below my waist, giving way to thighs proportioned only to my hips. My legs were long for my body, but they didn't give me extra height. I stood at barely five foot one, less when I slouched as I often did. I ran my eyes back up my body again, past my private parts. I paid little attention to them, not wanting to think myself less attractive than I already was. They were an obviously ugly part of me and I refused to dwell on parts I could not change. My eyes traced back up, over my tiny belly button towards my small breasts. I cupped them in my hands and let them fall, sighing at the small size of them, completely out of proportion with my hips and thighs. It wouldn't be any wonder to me if Carlos _did_ decide to have an affair. Perhaps he loved parts of me, like he told me, but I was no match for his attractive physique physically. As much as sometimes I didn't believe it because of other key elements, Carlos, physically, was a very attractive man.

My eyes rose past my shoulders and the column of my throat to rest on my face. My eyes were wide and an odd shade somewhere between brown and hazel. They were different, a pale brown with a greener undertone. They had once been my favourite part of my face, but as I looked deeper I realized that there _was_ nothing deeper. They were flat. I forced a smile and cringed. My mouth moved but my eyes remained the same. Lines formed around my nose and mouth and I stopped my pathetic attempt at a smile. It felt foreign and it looked ugly. And it accentuated my already too large nose.

I let out an exasperated whimper and turned away from the mirror, reminding myself that there had to be something about myself that attracted Carlos to me, and apparently Jasper. _Jasper._ Jasper who I was meeting again on Monday. Jasper who kissed my forehead and made my spine tingle. _Carlos who I was committed to!_ My mind was spinning around in circles, a compass searching desperately for north.

I eased myself into the bath tub and sighed at the warmth and the bubbles. The jets felt heavenly on my knotted muscles and the wine stung my taste buds pleasantly. I thought of Carlos, holed up in some hotel room somewhere. I wondered if he were thinking about me. I then wondered if he had a tall, curvy blonde servicing him and took another large sip of wine. I waited for the white, hot jealousy to flare inside of me. I waited for my stomach to churn. I waited, but the sensations didn't come. My mind drifted to Jasper gazing at the blonde Miss. Hale in the gardens earlier in the day, remembered how her demeanor had changed when she spoke to him. I felt the bubbling heat and anger in the pit of my stomach as I pictured her smile and his laugh, and I took another large sip of wine.

Guilt twisted in and overtook the anger as I realized what I was doing. I had no right to feel jealous about Jasper. I had Carlos. Carlos was mine and Jasper belonged to no one. For goodness' sake, he wore his hat indoors! I laid my head back on the edge of the tub, closed my eyes, and felt the tears come.

***

Sunday was bright and warm again when I woke, alone in our king-sized bed. I pulled a pair of yoga pants and a long sleeved tee shirt from my bottom drawer and dressed quickly, wanting to get on with my day. I pulled the brush through my waist length tangles to smooth out the knots and pulled my hair out of my face before hurrying down stairs to start the coffee. As the coffee maker began to gargle I heard the cut of an engine in the drive way and I sighed. It could only be Lola. I hurried to the door and let her in. She breezed past me, waving her crazy, scarlet nails in my face and brushing me off as though I were a pesky insect. She threw herself down on the couch and flipped on the television.

"Coffee?" The word was out of my mouth before I remembered the diet.

"You are as stupid as you look, aren't you? _Diet_, remember?"

I apologized quietly and offered her something else. Luckily there was green tea in the cupboard; it was the only thing that she approved of. I let the kettle boil and I waited in the kitchen, letting her watch Good Morning America in peace, hoping her mood would dissipate, though I was skeptical.

"Do you put anything in it?" I appeared in the door way and she looked up.

"Nothing. Clear," she snapped before turning back to the television. I handed her the steaming cup a moment later for no thanks. "This isn't Chinese green tea," she commented as she sniffed it with a mildly disgusted look on her face.

"It's Tetley?" I sipped my coffee and willed that she tell me why she was in my house and get on her way. I knew that luck was probably not on my side though.

"It's terrible," she muttered as she took a tiny sip. "I don't want it." She rose and went to the kitchen to pour it down the drain. She came back a few moments later with a glass of ice water and a bowl of dry granola. I managed to hold in my bitter laughter.

I sipped my coffee, perched nervously on the edge of the arm chair, waiting to see if Lola would justify her visit. She crunched noisily on her granola chunks until the weather came on, and then she spoke. "I have an aqua-fit class at the YMCA in an hour." She stretched and rose from the couch. "Thanks for breakfast." She strode gracefully toward the door. "Bye, Alice." She clicked the door shut behind her and I released a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.

***

Something Peter had said the day before was haunting me. _You should tell him._ The words swam around in my mind, Peter's face, a mask of indifference, his disappointment shining through only in the vacant stare of his eyes. _You should tell him._ Was Peter right? Was it really any of Jasper's concern? He hadn't asked me. Peter had asked me;if he was so concerned with Jasper's right to know, why hadn't he mentioned it to his friend? What would Jasper say? Was I willing to jeopardize my time spent with Jasper? Was I leading him on by omitting certain truths? I rubbed my forehead roughly with the palm of my hand, trying to organize my thoughts and questions.

"That's it," I muttered to myself, reaching for my purse on the banister and snagging my keys from the hook. I marched to my car, frustrated beyond belief at my inability to reason with myself. The drive into the city was quiet. I spun my car into an empty spot in front of the café and braked, _hard._ The seatbelt tightened across my waist and I slammed my hands into the steering wheel, fuming. How _dare_ Peter get into my head and mix me all up. How _dare_ he question me? Adulthood was something that wasearned, and _dammit,_ I'd earned it. And with adulthood came the freedom and maturity to _make my own decisions!_ I climbed out, slamming the door of my Civic roughly and marched toward the door.

"Got a minute?" I demanded as I stood fuming at the counter. Peter turned to greet me with a mischievous grin.

"Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?"

I glowered at him and jerked my thumb behind me, indicating he take a seat at the table. He chuckled, wiped his hands on a dish towel,and told Charlotte he was taking a break.

"What's up, kid?" he asked curiously, folding his hands on the table and studying my face. I huffed in annoyance and slapped my hands, palm down, on the table.

"Remember a while ago you asked me if I was seeing someone?" I began, my voice icy but calm. Peter merely nodded. "And then you asked me yesterday if I had told Jasper, and I hadn't?" He nodded again, his mouth a tight, disapproving line. "You never told him." It wasn't a question; it was a quiet, affirmative statement. He shook his head. "Why?"

He breathed out a heavy sigh and rubbed his large, freckled hand across his forehead. "It's really not my place. Jasper is one of my closest friends, we hit it off right away, but there are some things that just can't be discussed. If I tell him that I know you have a boyfriend, I look like the asshole who is trying to discourage him from pursuing what he wants. If I don't tell him, I'm the asshole who withheld important information. I can't win, Alice. You're who he wants to spend his time with right now, and I'm not about to jeopardize my friendship with him for one little tid-bit of information I happen to have. On the other hand, I'm not _encouraging_ him either. "

I took a couple of deep, calming breaths and raised my eyes to Peter's. "Why are you encouraging me to tell him? You are discouraging this _thing_, whatever it is, between me and Jasper."

"I'm not _discouraging_ anything. I'm _encouraging_ you to be honest!" His voice rose a bit with his intensity,and I was a bit taken aback. "You need to decide what you want. You haven't known Jasper long, but you must know him well enough to understand that integrity is highly regarded by him. Honesty is an important aspect in any relationship. Jasper is a good, honest person and you need to respect that. Jasper's a catch, and for some unknown reason he is completely smitten by you. Unfortunately for him, he's only seeing what he _wants_ to see." He took a deep breath and flexed his fingers. "Tell me, Alice, would Jasper like the person you _really _are, or is he only infatuated with what he sees at face value?"

I started to speak but Peter raised his hand, indicating me to stop. "Don't answer, just think about it. Don't screw him over; he's done nothing to deserve it. Think about someone other than yourself for once in your life."


	5. Chapter 5 Anger

**A/N: Thanks to Leon, my very patient beta. Without him you'd all be reading a million run on sentences among other things.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. **

**Chapter 5**

**Anger**

_Think of someone other than myself?!_ I was fuming on the inside. Literally, I could _feel_ my blood bubbling in my veins as I repeated Peter's words over and over in my head. Didn't I think of someone _other_ _than myself_ every freaking day? I looked after Carlos. I put his needs above my own each and every day. I made _no_ choices that only affected me. My entire life was about thinking about someone else.

I was furious with Peter for judging me so harshly. "You," I spat, standing up and leaning overthe table, "have _no_ idea what you're talking about." And with that, I turned on my heel and stormed out of the café,back to my car. I slammed the door and yanked the gear shift into reverse, peeling out of the parking lot and down the street, muttering to myself. I drove for a while, moving further into the city and away from the café and Peter. Eventually I realized that the traffic was getting heavier as the Sunday lunch hour rush began so instead of fighting my way through grid lock, and potentially rear ending someone in my fury, I turned down a side street and slid my car into an open spot. There was a park nearby that I hadn't visited since I'd first moved to Phoenix, and I wanted a quiet place to think, without the distractions of home.

The park was quiet, save for afew joggers, making it the perfect place for me to escape everyone around me and think. I made my way to one of the benches and sat down, tucking one leg underneath me and tracing the wrought iron arm rest with the fingers of my left hand.

Peter was wrong in his assumptions. He knew nothing about me or my life outside of his café. And what did he know about Jasper's _feelings_? Jasper knew very little about me;why would he be so involved that he would be hurt by the truth? _Look how involved _you_ are_, the little voice in my head taunted. Maybe my involvement made me desperate. My stomach sunk at that thought. How pathetic. It was going to become quite obvious to Jasper soonthat my social life outside of him was basically nonexistent.

I sighed loudly to myself and leaned forward to rest my forehead in my hands. A week before,my life had been normal, ticking along at its regular rate, and I was content in that routine. But then the whirlwind which was Jasper had a brief conversation with me and my life got thrown topsy-turvy.

A shadow crossed in my line of vision and I raised my head to see who had blocked my sun. A girl about my age was jogging lightly on the spot, looking down at me curiously.

"Are you okay?" she began, still jogging, her dark brown ponytail bouncing with her movement, a loose curl plastered to her face. "Actually, that's a stupid question. Obviously you're not okay. You look exhausted and kind of stressed out, and maybe I shouldn't have bothered you, but I think it's so depressing that people in this city can just ignore everyone else around them and go about their day like everything is tickity-boo, and really have no clue that maybe some horrible tragedy has occurred in someone else's life but they were too self absorbed to take any notice." She was still jogging on the spot as she finished her spiel and I was looking at her blankly. _Who was this girl? _"So maybe you're not okay, but I'd really feel better if you'd say something." The jogging stopped and she threw herself, ungracefully, down onto the bench next to me, eyes closed, head thrown back against the back of the bench.

"I'm okay," I told her quietly, taking in more of her appearance. She was cute; her face was round and soft, a gentle speckling of freckles spattered across her tiny, straight nose. Her eyes opened to look over at me. They were dark brown, so dark the pupils were barely visible, and they slanted up just the tiniest bit in that exotic, almond shaped way. Her lower lip was larger than her upper lip, making her look permanently pouty. Her chest heaved with her heavy breathing.

"You're sure?" She sat up straighter and stared, not at me, but straight ahead. "You really don't look okay."

"Who are you?" I snapped bluntly.

She laughed a loud, rolling laugh. It was real, not the titter I passed off as a laugh, or the simpering giggle that Lola laughed, but a real, loud, happy laugh. "I'm Bella," she replied, jutting her hand out to shake mine.

"Alice." I shook her hand, impressed at her strong handshake.

"Well Alice, I hope you're feeling better. One thing I've figured out: things usually work themselves out, so don't worry too much about it. You're probably worrying over something you can't fix. Be honest, and let the pieces fall where they may. It was really nice meeting you; however I've got things to do today. Back to the grind stone tomorrow and I won't have much time otherwise. I'm tardy far too often as it is and I hate running errands in the evening. I shouldn't make a habit of being late on Monday mornings." She drew her finger across her throat and made a gargling noise. "My boss is a supreme bitch, but the pay's good. See you around!" She hopped up and waved at me as she jogged across the park towards a busy street at the far end. I watched her the whole time, curious how a stranger's conversation could make me feel both better and worse at the same time.

***

I arrived at the house deep in thought about what Peter had said to me. Did I really need to be completely honest with Jasper and tell him about Carlos? I thought back to Bella's words. Things had a way of working themselves out, and maybe that was what I would go on for now. She seemed like a happy person; obviously her personal philosophy had worked for her.

I grabbed a bag of corn chips from the cupboard and pried the top open. Corn chips were thinking food. Corn chips would suffice for dinner. Over the crunching of the chips I heard the phone ring and I reached out without thinking and plucked it from the wall.

"Hello?" I swallowed my mouthful and I felt my heart race and my head begin to sweat.

"_Alice, I figured I should call. I hadn't heard from you."_

"Carlos," I feigned enthusiasm. "How is your trip?"

"_Fine. Normal business trip. I've been in meetings quite constantly but that is the nature of my work. Has Lola been by?"_

"She has. We had dinner the other night, and she was here this morning."

"_Good, I'm glad you get along so well. You got my note? I didn't want to wake you, it was an early flight."_

"Oh, yes that's fine. I got it."

"_Glad to hear it," _he paused_. "Just one moment, Alice." _The phone muffled and I heard his voice mumbling to whomever was near him. _"Sorry about that_," he continued as he came back on the line._ "I'm going to let you go, but we'll talk again soon. Could you drop off my navy suit when you pick up my dry cleaning tomorrow?"_

"Of course."

"_I love you, Alice__.__" _His voice faked enthusiasm. I held the phone away from my ear, finger poised over the _end_ key.

"Love you too," I replied flatly before ending the call, my heart in my throat. I slammed the phone back in the charger and popped another chip in my mouth. I leaned, breathless, against the island, trying to gain my composure. His _I love you_ was scripted and weak, but he said it anyway. I couldn't very well leave it open ended and hanging, and yet I felt as though I had committed a felony as I had forced out the lie. I hadn't even realized that I didn't love him until faced with the need to return the sentiment.

But how could I not love him? He had been my whole life, he had helped to shape who I became, he had loved me and cared for me and provided for me. He was everything. It was impossible not to love him. It was selfish not to love him. I _needed_ to love him. I lived with him. I looked after him and his house. I picked up his dry cleaning and cooked his meals and cleaned his bathrooms. I _had_ to love him.

I trudged up the stairs and leaned my hands on the bathroom vanity, looking at myself in the mirror. "Peter is right," I told my reflection, taking in the disgusted expression on my reflection's face. "You are selfish. You take from a man who would give you the world, you take and you can't even love him in return. Instead you go gallivanting off with another man while the one that provides for you is away making a living. You're despicable."

I turned away from the mirror and turned on the shower. I began to tug my shirt off over my head as I continued to think. I couldn't continue on the way I was now. I needed to tell Jasper that I couldn't see him anymore, as much as that thought broke me inside, because it was what was right. I couldn't just blow him off;he deserved some sort of explanation, but when I met him the following afternoon I would tell him that we couldn't see each other, couldn't be friends. It was the right thing to do. I was in a long-term, committed relationship to a man who I needed and who needed me. There was no place for Jasper in my life.

The thought of not seeing his face light up when I walked in the room or his eyes awaken with laughter made my chest ache, but I knew that if I didn't it would only get harder to resist him, harder to justify my commitment to Carlos.

I shouldn't _need_ to justify my commitment to Carlos, I thought as I stepped into the steaming shower and slid the door closed. I shouldn't _need_ to justify my relationships with anyone. Carlos was my life preserver. He kept me afloat. Without him I would sink deep into the depths of darkness and loneliness and despair. I needed him. He saved me. Without him I was nothing. I held no social status; I had no job and no job experience. I was twenty-five with nothing but the man whose house I lived in.

I dragged the shampoo through my tangled hair as I tried not to dwell on my aimless existence. _It's not aimless,_ the voice lectured. _Your purpose is to keep Carlos happy. It's your job. You love him, he provides for you. It's a purpose._ I sighed at my inner dialogue and shook my hair out behind me, letting the sharp streams of water rinse away the suds.

_It seems pretty pointless,_ my other half argued. _You could be going to grad school, or working, paying rent, making friends, having fun. Is fun such a bad thing? You're young, take advantage of it. _ I sighed again, knowing that the Alice I was five years ago would shudder in disgust at who I'd become. Alice five years ago was wild; a typical college girl, having fun, partying, drinking, road-tripping, and somewhere in between finding time to maintain an above average GPA. That Alice had been fun. That Alice wouldn't have thought twice about a guy like Jasper. That Alice took life by the horns.

But that Alice didn't exist anymore. Maybe I'd grown up, maybe I'd settled, but either way I had accepted that I was where I was because of choices I had made. I put myself in the position I was in and I would live with the consequences, because starting over _really_ wasn't an option. _Jasper_ wasn't an option. I would be lying if I said that I only wanted to be friends with him. I had an undeniable attraction to him. But even friendship was off the table for us.

I finished my shower and stepped out, shivering in the cooler air. I dried myself quickly and pulled on a pair of shorts and a too-large tee shirt. The bed looked inviting and comfortable. Sleep seemed like a good option. If I was sleeping I wouldn't be thinking. The war within my head would quiet.

I did a quick round of the house, turning off lights and locking doors, before collapsing into the soft bed and letting my head fall into the feather pillow. My last thought as I drifted to sleep was that I would get to see Jasper the next day and how that thought made me grin despite the circumstances.

***

Lola graced me with her presence again the following morning. It seemed that she was going to make it part of her routine to torment me at the start of everyday.

"I don't have to be in to work until nine so I thought I'd stop by."

I was standing at the door, looking at her blearily through sleep-encrusted eyes, still dressed in shorts and my oversized tee shirt, my hair a messy rat's nest on the back of my head. I nodded in response, still staring at her on my front step.

"Can I come in?" She tapped the toe of her pointy boot on the cement impatiently. I shrugged and opened the door wider, still in my half-conscious state. "Did you get some decent green tea?" she asked as she breezed by me, heels clacking on the hardwood.

"Uh…" It was the first sound I'd made all morning. I cleared my throat and started again. "No, but there's chamomile in the cupboard," I finally said.

She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. "Make it."

_Seriously?_ I thought as I closed the door behind her. "Sure," I told her in a faux cheerful voice as I trudged toward the kitchen. I turned the kettle on and turned away from her, rubbing my face frantically trying to wake up. Being startled awake by the doorbell at six thirty wasn't my idea of an ideal wake up call.

"How are you getting along all by your lonesome? Missing Carlos yet?"

I heard the kettle start to rumble and began to ready the teapot. "He's only been gone a few days," I replied, turning off the kettle and pouring the boiling water over the dry bags.

"You'd best hope he's missing you," she smirked. I raised my eyes to her face and took in the cold eyes and the thin line of her lips. Her cheek on the left side puckered just a tiny bit in her facial expression. There wasn't even much enthusiasm put into smirking.

"He called last night," I informed her, my face remaining a cool mask not because I was hiding anything, but because I had nothing to show. I put the lid on the teapot and leaned over the counter, folding my hands in front of me.

"I'm sure he's quite busy. I wouldn't expect another phone call," she retorted icily. I merely shrugged. I had nothing left to say. "How have you been spending your days? I don't see much progress about the house."

I warmed my hands on the teapot, considering my answer. "There isn't much progress to be made on the house," I responded. Lola raised her eyebrows in a disapproving gesture.

"I'd hope you're not doing anything to jeopardize your position with Carlos. I hope you're not doing anything stupid." She tapped her nails on the granite counter top in warning. I turned and pulled two mugs from the cupboard above the toaster and poured our tea.

"Clear?" I asked sweetly. Lola smoothed her suit jacket and nodded.

"I only want what is best for you and my brother, Alice. I'm trying to save your ass as much as my own by telling you these things. My brother is a fair man, but he doesn't take well to being bullshitted. Don't think you can get away with things. He is very influential of you, that much is obvious. You've got a pretty sweet deal here, don't go messing things up." She took her mug and sipped at the tea carefully.

I watched her closely. _Was it possible she knew about my friendships at the café? Could she know about Jasper?_ The thought was absurd; it was an area of town I couldn't imagine Lola entering. Lola in a grocery store was an impossible image; I knew for a fact she had hersdelivered. Lola in the café was even more ridiculous. She was all about dim lighting and dark stained wood and waiters in crisp, white shirts. She would never darken the door of a place with checkered curtains.

"Try to go above and beyond. Carlos always did like over achievers." She bared her teeth at me in a pathetic attempt at a smile. "Thank you," she nodded, taking the tea from me and sipping at it.

"Carlos seems to like me just fine," I muttered as I swirled the tip of my finger around the scalding liquid. I welcomed the burning; it relieved me from paying attention to Lola. I finally pulled my finger from the cup and shook it off.

Lola hadn't noticed my strange behaviour, because if she had she would have mentioned it. She had wandered to the large window looking onto our back yard, and stood with her back to me, mug of tea in hand. "That patio set is out of date. You should get a new one. Honestly Alice, you need to keep up appearances. And you should talk to Carlos about going to that art auction next month." Her eyes darted to the living room, to the piece of abstract art on the wall. "Some sort of black and white photography would look better to follow the theme of the room."

I wandered over to the table and sat down. "I think that would make the room too monochrome. Too much black."

Lola rolled her eyes. "The abstract doesn't fit. It's pretty passé anyway. Don't argue with me, Alice. I _know_ what I'm talking about." I forced myself to smile at her. After a while she spoke again. "My mother is coming to visit next weekend. She's rather upset that Carlos won't be in town but she's requested that you join us for dinner. She's requested Tarbell's on East Camelback. I've made a reservation for Saturday at seven. Make sure you're not late."

I hated Carlos and Lola's mother. Mrs. Mendez made Lola look like a kitten. She was thin, angular, and botoxed within an inch of her life. She was one of those people that could insult you with a compliment and she looked down her nose at anyone and everyone. Lola's holier-than-thou attitude was quite obviously a learned trait. She was a controlling shrew with a hidden agenda and an addiction to plastic surgery. She insisted on coming to visit two or three times a year and spent her entire stay judging and complaining.

"I'd love to." I tried not to cringe.

"Dress appropriately. And try to _at least_ act your age. She is always telling me how immature you are and how you need to smarten up if you want to remain on Carlos' arm. I'd prefer to not have to listen to her complain about you for the duration of our visit."

"Of course," I muttered.

Lola spun and slammed her hands on the table in a very Carlos-like gesture. "_That_ is exactly what I am talking about!" Her cold eyes bore into mine and I stilled, frozen in place by her glare. "I don't need to hear all about your insolence during my mother's visit. She tends to obsess on one thing and I'd rather that one thing _not_ be you! Neither one of us understand what Carlos sees in you. I had hoped when he brought you home that this was a phase that he was going through and that you were the toy of the month, but _then_ you stayed. You haven't left. What do you do? What do you have? Because no one is _that_ good a lay!"

Her chest heaved with exertion and her eyes flashed with anger. Her mouth was parted in an angry sneer. I shrunk back from her, eyes wide with fear of the monster across the table from me. Her fingers were gripped into the wood in what appeared to be a physical attempt at restraint and I knew I had pushed Lola too far. I had always assumed she had a temper that rivaled Carlos' though I had never seen her lose it. I had never spent so much time with her as I had over the past few days though.

Finally she took a deep breath, straightened up, and clacked towards the door. "I'd best get to work. Don't forget about Saturday, Alice." She had managed to hide the anger behind her typical façade but my name escaped her lips in a tone of pure menace. I shivered as I heard her snap the door shut behind her.


	6. Chapter 6 Friends

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters. I do however own the story line.**

**A/N: **Hi Everyone! Sorry this was so long coming. Please note that this story is un-beta'd as my beta isn't currently able to edit. Hopefully there aren't too many mistakes.

**Chapter 6**

**Friends**

I must have dozed off again after Lola left in her rage. I vaguely remembered throwing myself backward onto the sofa and praying to whatever greater being was out there that I somehow could contract some horrible plague and be unable to attend dinner with Mrs. Mendez. The next thing I remembered was the god awful ache in my neck and the blinding ray of sunlight sneaking through the gap in the curtains. I moved my leg and winced as my sweaty calf peeled off the leather. _Damn leather furniture!_ The clock on the DVD player was flashing two-thirty and I squeaked in surprise at the late hour. I was supposed to meet Jasper in an hour and a half.

_Jasper_. A smile involuntarily graced my lips and I physically forced the corners of my mouth to droop once more. I _couldn't_ find such obvious joy in a simple thought of him. I reminded myself once again of the committed relationship I was in. And then I imagined the shadow from the peak of his ball cap hiding his eyes even as he looked up at me when I opened the door. His left hand that had been sitting idly on the table would lift in greeting, and then he'd turn and order for me. It wasn't a long lived ritual, but one I could get used to.

_Damn it!_ I needed to stop thinking about him in a good way or a long term way. I needed to tell him I couldn't see him anymore. I knew it would hurt, but it would hurt a lot more to tell him later. Better to do it now so I had some recovery time before Carlos returned. I shuddered to think how quickly I'd allowed Jasper to become an important part of my life.

The drive to the café was too short for my liking, afternoon traffic never moved into the city. I pulled slowly into the parking lot, heart pounding an uneven rhythm in against my chest. I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans and cringed as the denim darkened under my grip. I stared numbly around, trying to find Jasper's truck to see if he'd arrived first. The truck was parked three spots to my left and I stared at him, glad my nervous eyes were hidden by my sunglasses. He quirked the left side of his mouth in greeting and I watched him turn and get out of his truck. I turned to rest my forehead on the steering wheel. _Get a grip_ I thought to myself as I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I would tell him, I had to tell him. It's what was best for everyone involved. I took a few more cleansing breaths, trying to channel my chi or something and when I opened my eyes he was staring intently in the passenger side window. He raised his eyebrows slightly and tapped the glass. I tapped the button to unlock the doors and I felt the cool gust of wind as he opened the door and slid in.

"Mind telling me what's going on in that pretty little head of yours?" he asked, just barely above a whisper. I felt the rough pads of his fingers against my neck as he brushed my hair off my shoulder. "You've been off since you left on Saturday."

I chanced a sideways glance at him and noticed the serious set of his mouth. His eyes looked concerned and a bit confused. I forced a smile and shook my head.

"I'm fine," I squeaked back.

"That's a load of shit and we both know it," he responded, his tone soft but his words harsh."I want to take you out for dinner to meet some of my friends. I think you need to be shown a good time. I however, will not have a good time if you're like this, and neither will you. You have got to tell me what's wrong."

I took a deep breath, looked straight at him and nodded. "I'm fine. I'm better now. Just stressed." He only looked _more_ worried and he reached his hand out to trace my cheek bone below the rim of my sunglasses. I felt the cool of dampness being spread over my skin and raised my own hand to my face. _Tears? I'd been crying?_

"Why are you crying?" Apparently I _had_ been crying.

_Because I can't see you anymore. Because my life isn't even ruined because I don't have a life to ruin. Because my boyfriend's sister is a nasty bitch who basks in my misery. Because in less than a week I have to sit across from botoxed-Barbie mama and it's going to be hell on earth. _Instead of saying all of that I just shrugged.

"Evasive little thing aren't you?" He sighed heavily and unsnapped my seatbelt. "Out you get. I'm driving." He tipped his chin towards his truck, eyes never leaving me. "And you won't need these," he muttered, taking my sunglasses off and folding the arms. "Sun's setting." He gave me a wry smile and turned to push his own door open. "Come on, let's go."

The Carlos-cheerleader in my mind was scolding me on how Carlos would have come around and opened the door for me, but her voice was weak in comparison to the Jasper-cheerleader telling me to get my butt out of the car and into the game.

_You have to tell him now,_ the Carlos side of my mind chided me. She was right. She was. I knew it.

_He's taking you to meet his friends. To dinner. Like a date._ _It will be fun!_ The Jasper side made a good point. I needed to have fun. We could be friends. Carlos wasn't even in the state. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

_He knows everything,_ the Team Carlos' cheer bimbo reminded me, waving her pom-poms in my face.

_He obviously doesn't. You've kept this part of your life secret for months. He doesn't know about your time at the café, so he definitely won't find out about one dinner with Jasper._

I jumped as my door swung open. I looked up to find Jasper leaning against the roof looking down at me, bemused. "You're just going to sit there?" I grinned half heartedly up at him and shrugged before climbing out of the car. "Long way up, remember?" he said as he opened the door to the monstrous truck. I grabbed hold of the frame, preparing to hoist myself up into the beast but before I got a good grip I felt strong hands encircle my waist. "Ready?" he murmured in my ear as he lifted me easily into the cab. I turned to face him and he stepped closer to me, his face level with mine. He was so close that I could smell him, all minty mixed with a slight wood scent and something heavier that I couldn't place. It was a smell that was familiar and new at the same time. I _really liked_ that smell. I closed my eyes to breathe him in and when I opened them again a few moments later he was looking at me with the strangest expression on his face. It was like he was looking at me but seeing something else. He looked unsure and nervous and a little bit excited. His hand reached out to brush a stray lock of hair off my face and I leaned into his hand, warm and solid and comforting. His head tilted the tiniest bit and his eyes closed in concentration. I watched as a muscle in his jaw throbbed once as he clenched his teeth. I felt my heart start to beat hard against my chest and the back of my neck was heating up, whether it was from anticipation or nerves though I wasn't sure. He shook his head a minute amount and then his eyes snapped open, deep and determined. And before I knew it he'd leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine. It took me a moment to react and I was pushed back by his force. I hadn't even begun to return the kiss before he stepped back, nudged my knees inside the cab and shut the door.

He walked around the car, yanked his door open, jumped in and started the engine. It took me a moment to realize that I was sitting motionless, my fingers to my lips like a startled teenager. I snapped out of my stupor and pulled my seatbelt across my chest. Jasper didn't say anything as he pulled his truck out of the parking lot and onto the main street. It wasn't until we hit the first red light and the truck lurched to a stop that either of us made to speak.

"So…" I began, unable to handle the heavy silence anymore. He laughed. He threw his head back against the head rest and laughed heartily. I crossed my arms across my chest in a very childlike gesture. "What?" I snapped.

"Is that all you have to say? So?"

"What else should I say?"

"I dunno," he drawled. "What about, 'why Jasper, what great lips you have,'"

I blushed crimson and turned away from him to hide my overheated face. " That was barely a kiss. And that sounds like a line from a kinky Little Red Riding hood."

"No no, that would be 'why Jasper, what a big…'"

"Jasper!" I admonished, slapping his arm. "That is inappropriate pre-dinner conversation,"

He gave me a sly smile and a sideways glance as he pressed the gas pedal. "Would it be more appropriate for post-dinner conversation?"

I blushed deeper and didn't answer.

"Come on Alice, lighten up. You're acting like a seventy year old socially rejected cat lady. Oh shit, wait. You don't live alone with cats do you? Not that I don't like cats, except I don't. I'm allergic."

I laughed for real, something I noted I really only did in Jasper's presence and shook my head. "No, no cats."

He reached across the seat and took my small hand in his much larger one. "We're nearly there. I'm glad you could come with me." He ran his thumb over my knuckles softly. "I really like hanging out with you."

"I like hanging out with you too," I responded, realizing how stupid I sounded after I'd said it. Like we were sixteen and we'd just watched a movie in my parents' living room. My mind drifted briefly back to when I was sixteen and I'd done just that with someone else. I wouldn't have appreciated Jasper; probably wouldn't have given him a second glance. If it hadn't been for his persistence I would never have even spoken to him. I was drawn naturally to the Carloses of the world. Success, classic good looks and a padded pocket book made up what I once thought to be my 'perfect man,' but as I sat there, staring at Jasper's chiseled profile with yesterday's stubble gracing his jaw line, and thought about his environment-killing truck and scuffed boots, I realized that I may have passed by a hundred 'perfect' men and never given them a second glance.

He pressed down the turn signal and eased the truck off of the road and into a parking lot. He didn't say anything as he parked the truck beside a tiny, green Echo. He cut the engine and turned slowly in my direction.

"What are you thinking about?" His drawl was less obvious when he spoke softly. "You look a bit out of it."

I looked up at him and smiled, not a forced smile, but a real, genuine, effortless smile and tucked a loose lock of hair behind my ear. "Nothing. I'm fine. Just….you know, thinking." I mentally shook my head at how ditzy I sounded. "Ready? I'm pretty hungry." I jerked my thumb in the direction of the restaurant.

"You got it." He shoved his door open and jumped out of the truck. I followed suit, jumping down and wishing there were running boards on Jasper's beast-truck. "We need to get you steps," he commented as he came around and took my hand. For a moment it was limp, like a dead fish, and I realized how off putting and kind of disgusting that must have felt, so I squeezed his larger fingers with my dainty ones and hurried along beside him into the restaurant.

I wanted to pull away. I felt like every eye in the place was on me, knowing what I was doing, knowing that I was betraying someone who trusted me. But I couldn't. I could not physically draw myself away from Jasper. I'd driven into town with the intent of telling him that we couldn't see each other anymore, and ended up holding his hand in public as he led me through the dim, crowded restaurant.

"Well look who finally showed up. Late as usual Mr. Whitlock." A large, burly man sat in the middle of the semi-circular booth, pointing at Jasper and shaking his head. "Such a woman." The other man at the table laughed throatily and I peeked over at him as well. He was of slighter build than either the loud, burly man or Jasper, and he was clean shaven, his shirt buttoned a button too high and his hair slicked back far too severely to suit his face. He tapped his fingers impatiently on the table.

"I think you just have a knack for being early, McCarty." Jasper stood back and motioned for me to slide in beside the one he called McCarty and I nervously inched my way into the booth. "Alice, Emmett and Edward." He pointed first to the outspoken one, and then to the impatient one. "I worked on Emmett's roof, and Edward works with Emmett. Where's the wife?" He directed his question at Emmett but Edward answered.

"Ladies room. One beer." He rolled his eyes dramatically.

"And Bella's late as usual," Emmett replied. "He's a fuckin' wreck when she's late, which is pretty much always. You'll get used to the finger drumming," he told me with a wink. "By the way Miss Alice, it's a pleasure to meet you." He held out a meaty hand that was as big as my head and I shook it.

"You too," I mumbled shyly. Who were these people? They certainly weren't much alike, and they seemed nothing like Jasper. I wondered how he could be friends with them. The impatient one looked like he had a stick up his ass and the big one scared me. He was just so _loud._ I decided then and there that I would _never_ want to see the Emmett one angry.

A familiar looking blonde woman stood at the end of the table looking irritated at the display the one called Edward was putting on. "Think you could let me in?" I knew that voice. I studied her briefly. She was tall, thin with subtle curves and well dressed. Her jeans hung loosely from her hips, straight to her feet, and black, leather toes peeked out under the hem. Her violet blouse bunched and fell in all the right places and as I took in her face I realized how I knew her. The same blue eyes and rosy lips that had spoken to Jasper the other day at the gardens. _Miss Hale._ What were the odds of such a small world moment?

Edward stood to let Miss Hale slide in next to Emmett and then he plopped back down unceremoniously. He pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and flipped it open.

"Still no Bella?" Miss Hale asked him, shifting to look at him.

"Look around you, Rosalie. Do you _see_ Bella?" Edward's voice was terse and accusatory but Miss Hale just brushed him off with a quick exhale.

"Jasper, great to see you." She smiled her perfectly straight toothed smile and then looked over at me. "Alice, right? We met very briefly at the botanical gardens the other day. I felt so rude just hurrying off like I did, but those kids _cannot_ be left unattended for long." She laughed a funny, tittery laugh and leaned into Emmett. "I'm Rosalie, Emmett's fiancée."

"I remember," I told her. "It's nice to see you again."

Jasper and Emmett discussed Emmett and Rosalie's house loudly, and in great detail. Once in a while Rosalie would chime in with something about wall sconces or venetian blinds. It seemed that Emmett had a soft spot for venetian blinds that Rosalie didn't share. Edward continued to drum incessantly and check his cell phone.

The waitress came so we could place drink orders and I followed Rosalie's lead, ordering something fruity and pink. I wasn't sure what it was, only that one definitely tasted like two and by the time our meals came two had tasted like three and I couldn't remember a time when I'd felt so free and relaxed. My relaxed haze still didn't mask my annoyance at Edward's serious finger drumming problem.

Just as I started picking at my garden salad the drumming stopped. My jaw relaxed slightly and I took another sip of the fruity concoction. I looked up to see what managed to stop the drumming. Hurrying across the restaurant looking frazzled and exhausted was a brunette, rifling through her bag and shoving her dark curls out of her face simultaneously. "I am so sorry I'm so late!" she cried, sitting down abruptly beside Edward and pecking him on the cheek. "My fucking boss is an annoying, overbearing cow and then traffic was absolutely insane." She pulled a blackberry out of her bag, looked briefly at it, pressed some buttons, rolled her eyes and turned it off. "You know I don't answer texts while I'm driving, baby." She looked pointedly at Edward and shook her head. "Anyway, what have I missed?"

She shoved her purse under the table and waived the waitress over, placing a quick order and then turning back to the table.

"This is Jasper's…._friend_, Alice." Edward gave Jasper a quizzical look and Jasper merely gave a half shrug. The brunette looked at me and her face broke into an almost manic grin.

"Oh my god! Alice? From the park?"

I looked up at her and blanched. It was the nice, jogging girl who had spoken to me a couple of days prior. She looked different in a blouse and skirt than she did in her work out clothes, but she was recognizable none the less.

"Wait. _You two_ know each other too?" Emmett seemed to be having far too much fun with the small world moments at work around the table.

I shook my head. "Not really. We met very briefly the other day." I took another long sip from my drink and sliced a tomato in half with my fork. Jasper slung his arm around my shoulders and dangled a long, thin fry in front of my face.

"No wonder you're so tiny. Tomatoes are rabbit food."

"I think rabbits eat lettuce and carrots more frequently," Rosalie informed him. "My younger sister had one and those were definitely its preferences."

"I think Rose is right," Bella interjected, placing her beer back on the coaster. "Tomatoes might be too acidic for rabbits."

"See," Jasper told me as I placed the tomato in my mouth and chewed. "They're acidic. They'll rot your stomach. Have a fry." I snorted at the absurdity of the conversation and took another sip of my drink.

"You need to slow down, little one." Emmett warned. "You're pretty tiny to be downing that as quick as you are."

"Shut up, Emmett," Rosalie reprimanded. "I think Alice is the female equivalent of Edward here." She jerked her thumb in Edward's direction. "She needs to loosen up a bit. _Relax._"

"I cannot believe you go out in public with your hair looking like that," Bella lectured as she turned and ran her fingers backwards along Edward's scalp. "The gel is like cement. What'd you do? Glue it down. For Christ's sake, Edward. Leave it alone." She ruffled his hair once more and sighed.

"Your _sex hair_ preference isn't exactly professional, Isabella," he replied with a slight smirk.

"And for God's sake unbutton your shirt. I mean, I'm all for people not ogling you but _I'd_ like to." She popped the button on his shirt and pulled the collar open. "There. You look slightly more presentable now. Alice, I'd like you to meet my extremely handsome stick in the mud, Edward Masen."

I giggled far more loudly than I should have and Jasper chuckled beside me. I felt his breath on my neck, warm and moist as he leaned down and ran his nose along the side of my face. "I like it when you laugh," he muttered so quietly that only I could hear. "You don't laugh enough."

I blushed at his innocent comment and fiddled with my napkin.

"That's _Doctor _Masen to you," I heard Edward say lowly and I snapped my attention back to the conversation. Rosalie laughed, and when she laughed she sounded slightly like the hyenas in the Lion King, which made me giggle just a bit more.

"Does he make you call him _Doctor_?" Rosalie asked Bella, with a coy look. Bella laughed in reply and nodded vigorously. "Emmett too." Rosalie rolled her eyes towards the ceiling.

"That's because I am a doctor, Rosie," Emmett boomed, squeezing her shoulder vigorously.

"You're a head doctor, Emmett," Rosalie retorted. "You don't cut people open to save lives."

"We help people open their minds, to heal," Edward informed her, a haughty, prideful look on his face.

"Way to make our profession sound manly, Ed," was Emmett's response. "Jasper here roofs houses and hammers nails, and we 'help people open their minds to heal'. We sound so macho. I love my job, but that description does it no justice."

"Do you have a better description?"

Emmett thought for a moment, scratching his head with his huge hands and then shrugged. "I'm a fuckin' psychiatrist. I'll think of a cool catch phrase later. Anyone want another round?"

Everyone placed another drink order and the conversation continued. "Rose?" Bella asked, poking at the foam on her beer with her finger. Edward pulled her hand out of her drink and kissed her knuckles, but gave her a warning look none the less. "Is Emmett very _in tune_ with your feelings? Does he want you to _open the lines of communication for a better and more wholesome relationship?_" Her mimic of Edward's voice was nearly perfect and I wondered how long they had known each other.

Rosalie shrugged and gave Emmett a coy smirk. "Probably, but when he starts spewing the psycho babble I just take off my top." I nearly spit my drink across the table. I tried to imagine Carlos's reaction if every time he began talking mergers I removed an article of clothing. He'd probably not even notice, or he'd ask me if I was too warm. My mind wandered to wondering what Jasper's reaction would be to me removing my shirt and I felt my face flush with embarrassment….or what I thought was embarrassment anyway.

"Hey little one," Emmett turned to me with a sneaky grin on his face. "Are you thinking dirty thoughts?"

"What? No! I can't believe…why would you….No!" I sputtered, crossing my arms over my chest. I barely knew the man, how he felt that asking questions like that would be appropriate was beyond me.

"Just checkin'. You had the same look that Bella gets when I _know_ she's having dirty thoughts. Rose doesn't get it, probably because she has dirty thoughts all the time, but I know that look."

"I absolutely was not!" I exclaimed, perhaps a bit too loudly. Everyone, including Jasper laughed heartily.

"Want to think about getting out of here?" Jasper's low rumble was in my ear, his stubble was scratching against my cheek and his hand was placed carefully above my knee, rubbing tiny circles with his fingers on the inside of my lower thigh. A tiny voice in my head told me no, but the much louder and more excited cheerleader shouted "Hell yes!" and unconsciously, my head nodded. I felt him grin and he sat up and called for the cheque.

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